She caught his eye, arriving after the last song, dejected. He, with guitar, sat down on the lip of the stage and sang one to her.
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She caught his eye, arriving after the last song, dejected. He, with guitar, sat down on the lip of the stage and sang one to her.
“I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.”
© 2006–2009 Spitball Army — Sitemap — Cutline by Chris Pearson
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